


Pretty Perfect

by LovelyLessie



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, First Dates, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLessie/pseuds/LovelyLessie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Éponine is better at running away from things than at facing them down, unless she has a good reason to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Perfect

"Pretty, perfect Cosette," she mutters as she digs through the drawer tucked under her bed, "with her pretty, perfect  _hair_  and her pretty, perfect  _makeup_  and her -  _ugh!"_  

She slams the drawer closed and twists sideways to throw herself back against it, letting her head fall on the edge of her bed as she fumbles around for her phone and her glasses.

>   
> _Éponine:_ i'm a fucking mess  
>  _Éponine:_ this was a bad idea why am i doing this  
>  _Éponine:_ WE don't do this  
>  _Marius:_ Well, I don't think you have to do it?

She almost throws her phone; instead she sighs in exasperation and lets it fall into her lap, setting her glasses carefully aside. He's  _right,_  of course, and it's a tempting offer, to bail and forget the whole idea. For a long moment she considers it seriously. That's what she's good at, after all - disappearing whenever things get heated.

Instead she turns, puts her phone on the bed, opens the drawer again to grab almost at random - skirt, top, leggings, some kind of misshapen cardigan.

It's a messy assortment, and she frowns at it, tugging on the ends of her curls. Okay, maybe, if she finds another skirt. "Hell," she mutters as she searches for one, and starts emptying the drawer she's combing through onto the floor.

At the bottom she finds one, very faded but with a printed pattern at the bottom still recognizable as some kind of flowers. The closest thing to  _nice_  she owns, probably. She throws it onto the bed with the other things, debates whether to wear leggings, decides against it. It'll be chilly out, but not  _cold._

She casts a glance at the mess strewn across the floor of her bedroom and leans over to check her phone. She doesn't have time to clean it up now; she won't finish by the time she has to leave, and if she isn't ready she won't even be able to  _show_  herself when Cosette arrives to meet her.

Marius, meanwhile, has been continuing to offer his advice, which she reads through with one hand as she pulls on her skirt with the other.

> _Marius:_ But really you shouldn't be worried, it will be okay!  
>  _Marius:_ God knows I'm a mess all the time, aren't I, but everything always turns out alright.  
>  _Marius:_ That said, I'm sure it wouldn't be any trouble if you didn't want to, even if you've said you would.  
>  _Éponine:_ marius  
>  _Éponine:_ shut up

She drops her phone aside to pull on her shirt, and grabs the cardigan or whatever it is to put it on, glancing over when he texts back.

> _Marius:_ :(

That makes her smile, and when she's shrugged on her cardigan she leans over to reply.

> _Éponine:_ aw, don't look so sad  
>  _Éponine:_ you know i like you plenty well  
>  _Éponine:_ it's only you give terrible advice

She kicks aside the mess of her clothes and ducks into the bathroom to examine herself in the mirror, under the yellowy light above the sink. Her hair's a mess, of course, and she combs her fingers through a few times in an unsuccessful attempt to make it better. Even dressed up she looks like a wreck - though she thinks maybe she's  _halfway_  presentable, at least.

With one fingers she traces the edge of her cheekbone and makes a face at her reflection. She's learned already she hasn't got the coordination to put on makeup herself - and besides, all the stuff she has is cheap and smudgy.

Cosette - pretty, perfect Cosette - will have her eyes lined and her lashes curled and her brows penciled in, will have blush highlighting her cheeks and glossy red lips - but that's Cosette, and she can't do any of that on her own. She'll have to do without.

Well, that's alright. It's not as if anyone isn't used to that. Only, if she could do it she might seem a little more like she gave it  _some_  effort.

She slouches back to her room and picks up her phone to check the time. Ten til seven - Cosette will be arriving any minute.

> _Marius:_ I'm only trying to help :(  
>  _Marius:_ Regardless, it'll be alright, Ponine.  
>  _Marius:_ Promise it will.  
>  _Éponine:_ thanks  
>  _Éponine:_ <3  
>  _Marius:_ <3  
>  _Marius:_  Say hello for me?  
>  _Éponine:_ oh my god  
>  _Éponine:_  didn't you see her earlier today  
>  _Marius:_ Well, yes...

She laughs and shakes her head, leaning down to pull on her boots.

No sooner has she sat up again than the door buzzer sounds, and she jumps, grabbing her phone and dashing for the front room. Phone - keys - the little cash she has - she throws them all into her bag and ducks out into the hall, pulling the door shut and locking it behind her before she runs down the stairs and pushes open the apartment door to see Cosette standing in front.

"Hi," she says, a little out of breath.

Cosette looks as pretty and put-together as ever, her hair in curls and pinned back, her eyes bright, her blouse tucked into her skirt, towering in sandal-strap heels and beaming like the sun itself. "Good evening," she says. "You look nice."

"Oh," Éponine says, startled, and ducks her head, feeling her cheeks heat up. "Thank you - I mean, you do, too." She swallows. "That is, you always do, but - especially nice."

"Thanks," Cosette says, and it's hard to tell in the twilight but Éponine  _almost_  thinks she might be blushing too. She licks her lips and then offers her hand. "Shall we go?"

_This is the part where you run away,_  Éponine thinks, glancing at the toes of her worn-out boots, turned in against each other and just visible around the hem of her skirt.  _This is the part where you take off and you don't look back. You don't -_

_you don't -_

She slips her fingers into Cosette's palm and grins up at her, shoving her other hand into the pocket of her cardigan. "Yeah," she says. "Let's go."


End file.
